Ozai & Ursa Shorts
by Princess Diana of the FAYZ
Summary: ATLA. Short drabbles on Ozai and Ursa. Because the fire nation royal family intrigues me right now. Pairing: Urzai
1. The Royal Flower

**WARNING: Spoiler for anyone who has not read The Search.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender. If I did, Zuko would still be Ozai's son. I mean, I know he was a horrible father to Zuko, but Zuko being Ikem's son RUINS the whole 'Zuko is the descendent of both Avatar Roku and Firelord Sozin' thing. Anyway, that's just my opinion.**

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**The Royal Flower**

The first time Prince Ozai saw her, he thought her beautiful.

A beautiful flower, just like those displayed proudly in her mother's greenhouse. Delicate, lovely, just waiting to be picked... He eyed her clothes with disdain and wondered why fate had allowed a woman with beauty surpassing even the finest noblewomen and the most exotic courtesans in the palace to grow up in that pathetic sty of a village.

He silently thanked the fates for allowing him to find her.

It would have been a pity to allow such a flower to wilt and rot, unseen by the world in that rundown village.

He decided then that the commoner rags she wore did not do her justice. When he becomes Firelord- when he takes the throne from his foolish older brother- the whole world would bow at her feet, at their feet. She would stand by his side for all the world to see, beautiful and glorified in the fine silk woven by the best tailors the fire nation had to offer.

But there was this peasant boy in the way.

He barely spared a glance out the window of the carriage. What could a peasant boy with wooden swords do anyway? He would be burnt to a crisp by the royal guardsmen in an instant. But his flower was visibly distressed. Her face had turned worryingly pale and her shoulders were stiff as if tensing for a fight. Finally, she turned towards Prince Ozai with imploring eyes.

His breath did not hitch when she called him by that endearment. His heart did not skip a beat. None of that foolishness, for he was not a pathetic romantic like his older brother. Still, he called off his guards as she had asked and waited patiently as she told the peasant boy to go home. He allowed himself a moment to bask in victory. It was strangely satisfying, watching the silhouette of the peasant boy grow smaller and smaller as the carriage drew further and further away from Hira'a.

She was his flower now.

His very own royal flower.


	2. Her Attention

**Disclaimer: I still do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender.**

**Sorry if Ozai is OOC. I tried.**

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**Her Attention**

Prince Ozai was frustrated.

He glowered moodily at the source of his frustration, sitting right across from him at the dining table. His preferred method of dealing with his problems was to scorch them into non-existence. He could not, however, burn his own wife no matter how much she irked him. It would be a bother to find another woman to bear his children. Besides, she was Avatar Roku's granddaughter. No other woman had a bloodline of her quality.

Ursa ate her food quietly. Not a word was exchanged between them.

This had been going on for a few weeks now. She never spoke unless spoken to. She would often stare blankly across the room, as if her mind had journeyed elsewhere even though her physical body remained. It did not really bother him at first, but after awhile, when he contemplated the reason for her apathy, her distance, Prince Ozai became livid.

It was that peasant boy! It had to be that damned peasant boy!

She was still thinking of him. She was always thinking of him. It bothered Prince Ozai greatly, not because he held any actual emotional attachment to the woman-Of course not! Her only function was to bear his children-but because it was a serious insult to his manly pride. He was greatly affronted by her lack of interest in him. She wanted a peasant over him, a prince of the Fire Nation.

"Ursa."

"Yes, my lord?"

"How are you?" He hadn't meant to ask that. He simply could not think of anything better to say to her. It was incredibly demeaning that he, a prince of the mighty Fire Nation, was reduced to making small talk with his own wife just to hold her attention.

"I am well," she said simply, not bothering to add on to that.

"You still think of him," he blurted out. Prince Ozai saw an emotion-the first he had seen from her-flit briefly across her face. He wished it did not look so much like pity.

"I am your husband." It was a simple statement, but it came out sounding more like a plea. It was remarkably pathetic and weak, even to his own ears. Prince Ozai's face burned with shame. He hated it, having to beg his own wife for her attention. It was unbecoming of a prince. He had not even meant to beg. He had meant it as an accusation.

"You are," she finally conceded, her lips turned upwards in a small smile that did not quite reach her eyes. It was a sad, sad smile.

That day, Prince Ozai had learnt that if nothing else, Ursa was compassionate. It was not love or even attraction that made her pay more heed to her duties as his wife after that conversation. It was compassion. She had seen his weakness, his vulnerability displayed unadulterated and she had felt sorry for him.

He hated that.

He hated her for pitying him.

But all the same, he craved her attention.


	3. Her Betrayal

**WARNING: Spoilers for The Search Part 2.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own ATLA**

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In that moment, he forgot everything he had ever found attractive about her. She was no longer beautiful to him and the rebellious fire in her eyes that he had once found amusing now irked him to no end. All he could see was her betrayal.

All he could feel was disgust.

And anger.

Pure, unadulterated fury. The kind that usually left a trail of burning debris behind him. There was something else too, but he refused to acknowledge it. It was unbefitting of a prince of the Fire Nation.

Disgust was fine. He was a prince after all and there were many things that were beneath him, that he looked down upon, that disgusted him. Anger was welcome. It was the very core of being a Firebender. Anger was power. But this-the painful throbbing of his heart whenever the words of the letter replayed in his mind-was weakness. This, he could not allow. So he ignored it, choosing instead to focus his energies on the empowering feeling of rage.

Her crime was considered high treason against the Fire Nation. It was punishable by death. But no, he would not kill her. Death was too lenient a punishment, for death was relief from this life that he knew made her feel trapped. She would suffer instead, as she had made him suffer.

He refuted the thought almost as soon as he had thought it.

No, he did not suffer. She was not significant enough to cause him suffering. He was Ozai, the prince of the strongest nation in the world. And who was she? A common wench who happened to have the blood of the previous Avatar flowing in her. What gave her the right to betray him like this?

'My only consolation is our son Zuko.'

Those words were forever imprinted into his mind. They replayed themselves in his head, over and over again, in Ursa's voice, her tone taking on a cruel edge that he had never heard the real Ursa use. It mocked him, taunted him, made him realise that he had been a fool.

Because he realised, in that moment of clarity, that he had almost fallen in love with her, that her soft voice and gentle touch had calmed his raging soul, stilled his volatile flame into a gentle orange glow. But now that was over. The angry red flames that once defined him were back.

They burned, fanned by the intensity of his rage.

And the sting of her betrayal.


	4. Her Pain

**Her Pain**

She would pay.

She would know pain.

He summoned a well-known Yuyan archer, Vachir, who was renowned for his remarkable skill, to fulfil the task. The archer, eager to please, was quick to accept the mission and this soothed Ozai's rage slightly. This was how it should be, he thought, commoners should know their place, should grovel at his feet, scrambling to earn his favour. A cruel smirk crept onto his face when he ordered the archer not to bother with discretion. He wanted Ursa's peasant boy to know who it was that had sealed his fate. He wanted the peasant to know that he, Prince Ozai, was the one who held all the power, the one who could kill with mere commands from his mouth. And most importantly, he wanted the peasant to know that he, Prince Ozai, was the one who owned Ursa.

Yes, that was what she was. Something he owned. A mere possession. Nothing more than a woman brought into the Fire Nation's royal family to birth a powerful heir.

When the archer returned, Ozai was enraged when he claimed that he was not able to find the peasant Ozai had ordered him to kill. The archer desperately assured Prince Ozai that his target could not have survived the strange forest he was rumoured to have fled to. Unfortunately for him, the prince was not interested in such excuses. When he ordered something, if his order was not followed to the letter, it was considered a failure. He did not tolerate failures. Prince Ozai forced Vachir to resign from the Yuyan archers. The man's pleas for mercy were like music to his ears and Ozai smiled. He hoped that his wife would have as pleasing a reaction. It did not matter that there was no confirmation of the peasant's death, Ursa did not know that. But soon, she would know despair.

When Ozai confronted his wife, she did not try to deny it, nor did she beg for mercy as he had wanted. Instead she snapped back at him with an equal amount of fury and accused him of intercepting her private correspondence. He wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. She was being accused of treason and all she cared about was him reading her letters? Did this woman not know the seriousness of her crime? Did she not know what she risked losing at that very moment?

He wanted to make her hurt.

"Ikem richly deserved his punishment," he spat out hatefully. The implications of the statement were clear. His lips twisted into a cruel smirk when the fury in Ursa's expression melted away and was replaced with dread.

"What did you do?" she asked, already anticipating the answer.

"I wiped that treacherous dog from existence."

Ursa's eyes grew wet with tears that trailed unbidden down her porcelain cheeks. Each tear was like an additional victory to Ozai. She was no longer the strong woman that had first set foot in the Fire Nation Palace, the one who could face any adversity with a sort of calm detachment. He had succeeded in breaking her.

And he relished the satisfaction he drew from her pain.


End file.
